Night Swim
by Flash Foreward
Summary: New Amsterdam fic. John goes for a swim, expecting to be alone, but when someone else arrives he finds that he was expecting her the entire time.


**A/N:** My first real New Amsterdam fic...lemme know if anythings OOC so I can fix it 'cause this is unbeta-ed.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own New Amsterdam.

**Night Swim**

_"Please don't go crazy, if I tell you the truth"  
-Snow Patrol; How to be Dead-  
_

He's gotten used to her being there, at the pool, every time they have a case. It's reached the point where he expects her, whether they have one or not, and he finds himself inexplicably disappointed every time she is not there. He knows she has a life, that she can't be there every night, and that only the most pressing matters will draw her to the pool deck; but he still cannot help the hope that he will finish his laps and find her waiting, towel in hand.

And on the days when she is there, the days when they have a case, he enjoys their banter and discussion. They bounce ideas off of each other in the dark, empty poolroom, completely comfortable with each other regardless of the fact that his only attire during these conversations is his towel; showcased by the fact that she's stopped turning her head when he climbs out of the water. She just holds the towel out to him, her eyes on his face, and spews off some legal fact related to his evening swims.

He'll counter with a sarcastic remark, and then their attention turns to the case.

So, tonight, as he swims his laps, he finds his mind wandering to her. They don't have a case, but he still finds himself imagining her waiting by his towel when he's finished. He swims faster at the thought, trying to drive it from his mind. He's been through too much with too many women to let his thoughts wander so far.

And he knows it isn't her. He didn't feel it. He doesn't feel it.

When he comes to a halt, grasping the stair railing tightly and brushing water and hair away from his face, he turns and freezes. Standing there by his towel, arms crossed over her chest, is Eva Marquez. He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at them with his thumb and forefinger before looking again.

She's still there.

"You go blind or somethin'?" she queries, her voice light. He shakes his head.

"What are you doing here?" he responds after a moment's hesitation, floating by the wall, one hand lazily pushing at the other while he tightens his grip on the railing with the other. She shrugs.

"Didn't think you'd complain," she says.

"We don't have a case."

"Who says I need a reason to be here?" she counters. "Maybe…maybe I was gonna join you."

The silence that falls over them is far from comfortable. She shifts her weight awkwardly as he stares up at her, her gaze traveling around the room and landing one a point at the far end, somewhere near the diving boards. He clears his throat with a light cough, glancing out over the vast expanse of water; thinking.

"Why don't you?" he asks. She blinks and quickly returns her attention to him, scrutinizing him in hopes of discerning his meaning. His point. She finds none, and is forced to ask.

"What?"

"Why don't you?" he repeats. "Join me. The water's fine." He gestures out at the lightly lapping water and she shakes her head, laughing uncomfortably.

"You're crazy, Amsterdam," she says. He chuckles.

"So what if I am?" He beckons to her. "C'mon." She shakes her head, but begins stripping off her clothes. She pauses, jacket in hand, and looks to him.

"Could you…," she trails off, but he nods and pushes away from the wall. He returns to his laps, taking slow, languid strokes. He flips a turn at the far end and as he swims slowly back he hears the dull splash of someone else jumping in. He comes to a halt near the center of the pool, treading water and lifting his head up to find himself facing her.

"What took you so long?" he jokes, she rolls her eyes and pushes against the water, gliding away from him. He follows slowly, kicking his legs back like a frog and scooping with his hands to slow his pace. She reaches the diving boards and stops, holding onto the side and watching him as he nears. He reaches her and slides up beside her, his hand inches from hers.

"That's my question," she says, a delayed retort. He cocks an eyebrow and tilts his head in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he queries. She laughs and turns her gaze out to the water, watching the tiny waves float past her, avoiding his gaze.

"How long have I been comin' here?" she asks. "Standin' there, watchin' you swim til you get out and we talk about the case?" He shrugs.

"I just thought…"

"It was all about the case?" her gaze returns to him, her eyes locking with his. "Maybe it was, at first. But, John, honestly, how long?"

He doesn't answer, not for a long time. He keeps his eyes locked on hers, though, as his thoughts race. Worries clutter his usually clear mind and he wants to shake them away, but he will not break eye contact. Finally, he takes a deep breath and lowers his gaze to her neckline, watching out of the corner of his eye as the water laps against Eva's skin.

"You know all those things I've said," he begins, "about the past. All the memories of this city, the way I talk about it like I've been there?"

"Yeah?" He lifts his gaze once more to hers. He knows she has to see his eyes to know that what he says is true.

"They're all true," he says. "It's all true. I was there, through all of it."

"John, that's-"

"No, Eva, I need you to hear this," he cuts her off. "I need you to know, to believe. I can't," he swallows. "You have every right."

Silence hovers between them and he watches her eyes wander as she thinks, as she contemplates all he's told her. He's said so much with so few words, and he fears that she will mock him, that she will swim away with a laugh at his well played joke.

Instead, she nods.

"That place you go," she says. "When…how did the Sarge put it? You're here but you're not here?" He nods, she continues. "That's where you go, to the past, isn't it? Some distance past that no one but you is alive to remember?"

There's nothing he can say. She's summed it up so well, he has nothing more to add barring a revelation of his entire sordid past. He turns his head away, looking over at his towel and the pile of her clothes, and he feels no urge to take her in his arms and he fears his revelation has been for naught.

But when she cups his cheek, a shiver courses down his spine and his breathing quickens, bringing his heart along with it. He looks at her once more, relishing the feel of her skin against his.

"Maybe, one day, you'll tell me all about it," she says. He smiles a little.

"Maybe," he concedes.

Their eyes stay locked for a moment, then she grins and pushes away from the wall, swimming quickly away from him. He laughs and follows behind, catching up with her quickly and gently pulling her to a halt with an arm around her waist. His heartbeat quickens once more as he lowers his lips to press against hers, and his skin tingles as her hands roam his back.

And for the first time he doesn't care if she's the one.


End file.
